Kids Are Weak These Days

Earlier today I rescued a turtle from the middle of the road, simply because that's how I roll, bitches. It was a big one, maybe tipping the scales at three to four pounds. He was feisty, too, and kept trying to rip my fingers off with his needle claws.

I took him home and then rode my bike to a nearby creek to drop him off. I'm no turtleologist, but I figured he'd like some water.

There was a kid standing next to a bike. He was maybe eight or nine. He asked me if I could get his tennis balls for him, and I said, "Sure, as soon as I release this turtle." It was a very Napoleon Dynamite type moment. I think to myself it's pretty sad that this kid's playing tennis by himself in the middle of the street, but then I determine he probably just doesn't have any friends. It's still sad, but I like to supply my depressing thoughts with a logical explanation.

So I release my captured turtle into the creek, and it simply sinks like a stone. "That's not good," I thought to myself, especially since this kid's watching my every move. I really don't want to be the one to break it to him that stuff dies. "See that turtle there, Timmy?", I'd say, pointing towards the murky water, "That's what happened to your grandpa. Turns out he's not just asleep."

So we stare at the water for a while, me and this kid I've never met, and pretty much watch nothing for a few minutes. It was very Faulkneresque, and it kind of gave me the chills.

After wigging myself out due to the fact that a) I'd just killed a turtle, and b) I'd probably severely scarred some little boy for life, I climbed out of the creek.

Then I go to get his tennis balls. I'm thinking they're in some kind of heavy brush, because the kid was probably Barry Bonding them into God knows where. So I ask, "Where are they?" He walks to the edge of the road and says, "There. I didn't want to get stung by the bee."

The tennis balls are like literally half a foot off the pavement. The grass is maybe two inches tall. This is ridiculous. Someone should get this kid some therapy, if he's that scared of one bee. Also, the bee was flying around us the whole time- did he think that the bee was going to get super pissed if he moved six inches to the left? I'm pretty sure all bees think are, "Buzz, buzz, fly, buzz, danger, buzz, buzz." I don't think tennis balls and vendettas are really part of their bag of tricks.

In my day, we were jumping off shit, scuffing our knees, swimming in ponds, getting cut up to hell and back in briar bushes, tempting tetanus on a daily basis, borrowing machetes to hack our way through the woods, building clubhouses, and playing with slingshots that could quite easily put your life (much less your eye) out. Sure half of my childhood friends died in freak accidents, but that doesn't change the fact that today's kids are soft. We need a major foreign power to attack us, so this younger generation is forced to man up and grow a pair.

P.S. The turtle lived. Apparently they can hold their breath for a really, really long time.